


Ten Scenes at Varying Stages of Domesticity

by sarcasticsra



Series: Domesticity [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Curtain Fic, Homophobic Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticsra/pseuds/sarcasticsra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Scenes at Varying Stages of Domesticity

**Author's Note:**

> So. They are never going to leave me alone. I see how it is. Thanks for the beta, Kelly.

Morgan couldn’t help but watch as Hotch and Rossi headed over to the coffee pot at the same time; neither said a word, but they moved in tandem, the sort of nonverbal communication borne from plenty of practice: first, Hotch picked up the pot as Rossi sat out two mugs; then, while Hotch poured coffee into each cup, Rossi picked up two creamers. As Hotch sat the coffee pot down, Rossi passed him one, and they each added one to their mugs. Hotch handed Rossi a packet of sugar, and in return, Rossi handed him one of two stirrers he’d picked up. Hotch stirred his coffee as Rossi added sugar to his. He took a sip, nodding slightly, before heading over to the table. Rossi was a beat behind him.

He gave them an amused look.

“What?” Rossi asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You guys picked out curtains yet?” he asked, smirking. “Or china patterns? You’ve got china patterns, right?”

They both rolled their eyes.

“I’m just saying,” he added, “we all better be invited to the wedding.”

Really, he thought, as the rest of the team filed into the conference room, it was actually kind of ridiculous that it had taken them so long to figure things out.

*

“Do people celebrate six month anniversaries?” Aaron asked him.

“Some people celebrate _one_ month anniversaries,” Dave replied. “Or so I’m told.”

Aaron frowned. “That seems excessive.”

“Just a bit, yeah,” Dave replied. “Why?”

“Morgan reminded me today that ours is Tuesday.”

“I swear, that man has _the_ biggest secret romantic streak I’ve ever seen,” Dave commented. “I’m not that great with remembering dates,” he added. “I have, if you’ll recall, been divorced a few times. If I were any good at this stuff, I think that probably wouldn’t be the case.”

Aaron shrugged. “I would’ve forgotten too if not for Morgan. I’ve been preoccupied by the mountain of paperwork attempting to devour my desk.”

“It’s a good thing that we’re both terrible at this—the workaholic and the triple divorcé,” Dave replied dryly. “At least we can be terrible at it together.”

He snorted. “There is that.”

“So how about this,” Dave suggested. “Next night we have free, I’ll make us dinner. We’ll spend it in, just the two of us. What do you think?”

“I think,” he said, a smile turning up the corners of his lips, “that it sounds like Morgan isn’t the only one with a secret romantic streak.”

Dave rolled his eyes, but he smiled.

*

Dave discovered the spot entirely by accident.

Jessica had agreed to take Jack for the day, and they were spending the time at his place, a low-key day in. They both needed the time to relax, and relaxing was exactly what they’d been doing.

After all, having plenty of sex had always been Dave’s favorite method of relaxation.

So far, they’d relaxed this morning in bed, and then a little later on in the shower, and now they were starting to relax on the couch in the den, the TV on in the background. Dave had no idea what was actually on; he was paying much more attention to the man currently half-sprawled on top of him.

He skimmed a hand under the hem of Aaron’s undershirt. “Why did you put a shirt back on?” he murmured into his ear.

Aaron’s chuckle rumbled through his chest. He felt as well as heard it. “ _You_ put one on. Would you rather I walked around shirtless?”

Dave smirked. “Was that supposed to be a difficult question?” He drew Aaron in for a deep kiss, long, languid, searching.

“Here I thought we were still pretending that there was a point to this day other than sex,” he managed, dryly, once they broke apart.

“Yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

Beat. “I’m not sure why I cared.”

They kissed again; Aaron shifted this time, pressing his hips against Dave’s. It made him groan, kissing back harder, more passionately.

He broke the kiss and dipped lower, trailing kisses along on Aaron’s jaw, then his neck, proceeding to kiss and suckle his way over his Adam’s apple. When he got to the crook of his neck and his shoulder, he found the spot. Aaron’s hips _bucked_.

They both groaned. Intrigued, Dave sucked softly on that spot again. Aaron let out a loud moan, hips bucking again. Lightly—very lightly—he bit down. Aaron yelled, “Jesus _Christ_ , Dave!” and his hips ground down hard. It made him very briefly dizzy.

“What do we have here,” Dave murmured. Aaron leaned back just enough to meet his eyes; Dave could see how dark they were, how unfocused. The sight went straight to his cock. Thanking God that he’d splurged for such a large couch, he shifted them, pressing Aaron back into the cushions. Kissing that spot again, he grinned when Aaron writhed and moaned, his head falling back, eyes closing. “Very interesting.”

“Dave,” Aaron breathed, cracking open one eye.

“Yes, Aaron?” he asked, trailing a hand down his chest, between them. He slipped past the elastic waistband of his boxers, finding and grasping his cock. Squeezing lightly, he stroked, slowly, steadily, and then he leaned down at sucked at that spot on Aaron’s neck.

Aaron’s eyes snapped shut again and his head fell back, lips parted; he writhed harder, his whole body shuddering in pleasure. “ _Dave_ , Christ,” he groaned, arms flying up to grip at his back.

“Mm, we’re often confused,” he murmured against Aaron’s skin, moving upwards to kiss him soundly on the mouth. Those lips were just far too tempting.

“Delusions of,” here Dave sped up his strokes, “ _fuck_ , Messianic grandeur?”

“Don’t think you’re going to profile me into forgetting _this_ ,” he breathed, bringing his free hand to rub over Aaron’s neck, pressing his thumb against the already-sore spot. Aaron’s hips jerked hard into his hand, and Dave grinned, stroking faster.

“Dave, I can’t—“

“Sure you can,” Dave said, moving his mouth back where his hand had been. He bit down again, just hard enough, his hand still working Aaron’s cock.

Aaron shuddered again, volume increasing, and his hips moved faster, frantically fucking Dave’s hand. His head was still back, his eyes still closed, and not only were his lips parted just _so_ , but they were swollen now, from his last kiss.

It was the hottest thing Dave had ever seen.

He sped up his strokes and bit down again. Aaron cried out, fingers digging into Dave’s back, hips moving faster, faster, and then Dave bit down one last time, and that was it—Aaron let out a loud shout, his hips gave one last jerk, and then he was coming hard into his hand.

Dave kissed that spot, smoothing it over with his tongue, and then reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a tissue, wiping off his hand. Aaron didn’t move much under him, his breathing slowly returning to normal. “Dave,” he murmured.

“Don’t say a word,” Dave replied. “I don’t think you get just how much I like to see you stripped of every last shred of your uptight, no nonsense, buttoned-up, _utterly ridiculous_ sense of propriety.”

“No, I do,” Aaron said, meeting his gaze. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I was just going to say,” here he flipped them, kissing Dave hard, “that now it’s my turn.”

*

“I’m telling you,” Garcia said, gesticulating wildly at Hotch and Rossi, who were up at the bar, getting their drinks, “they can read each other’s minds.”

Morgan smirked. “What makes you say that, baby girl?”

Tsk, Derek Morgan, she thought. So pretty, but so clueless sometimes. Wasn’t that just like a man? “Isn’t it _obvious_?” she asked. “They practically have entire conversations by just _looking_ at each other! They’re doing it now.”

“They are?” Prentiss asked, raising an eyebrow. She glanced up at Hotch and Rossi, who were sharing one of their knowing looks.

“They so are,” Garcia replied. “The bartender keeps trying to flirt with Hotch. Rossi’s look is saying, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you, and Hotch is replying, dryly, naturally, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Reid and J.J. both glanced over at the bar as well, and Garcia waited. When the bartender handed Hotch his drink, she was sure to emphasize the napkin she gave him as well. “She just gave him her number,” Garcia said, grinning. “Now watch.” Hotch held up the napkin just enough to show Rossi, who gave him a look. “Rossi’s saying, keep this up, you’ll see what happens. Hotch’s reply is, well, now I’m curious.”

The five of them kept watching as the bartender set Rossi’s drink down in front of him. Rossi smiled, slow and dangerous, then reached over, slung an arm around Hotch’s neck, squeezing his shoulder. He took the napkin with his free hand and turned back to the bartender, handing it to her and saying something with a friendly smile; she blushed, but looked amused, and Rossi sent a look back at Hotch.

“So there Rossi just said, what did I tell you? And now Hotch is saying, I can’t believe you did that,” Garcia translated. “And Rossi’s replying, sure you can, you know me, now let’s get back to the table.”

Rossi picked up his drink and he and Hotch made their return. Garcia grinned triumphantly. “Told you so,” she said, smugly. The others gave her impressed looks.

“Did we miss something?” Rossi asked, raising an eyebrow. He sent Hotch a curious look, who only half-shrugged in return.

Innocently, Garcia took a sip of her drink. Everyone else smirked.

*

“Maybe I do have a problem! Maybe I have a problem taking orders from a fucking _faggot_!” shouted Detective Carson.

The entire precinct went deadly still. Dave watched Aaron tense, just slightly, but when he spoke, his voice was calm as ever. Calm, but firm, like steel. “I suggest you keep your personal feelings to yourself,” he said, not breaking eye contact. “I further suggest you refrain from using derogatory language unless you are seeking to have disciplinary action taken against you. We were invited in to help you with this case by your captain. The fact that you seem to have a problem with that is none of my concern. The fact that you have been undermining our investigation at every turn, however, is, and I am telling you now that it will not be tolerated. Either put aside your petty grievances and help us find the man responsible for these crimes or sit down, shut up, and _get the hell out of our way_.”

With that, he turned and headed back into the room that they’d been using for their work. The team followed, slowly: Prentiss glared daggers at Detective Carson as she walked by, hand pointedly resting on her gun; J.J.’s gaze was like ice, her entire posture stiff; Reid frowned at him, anger and outrage written all over his features; Morgan’s gait was purposely slow, his shoulders tight, and he actually stopped next to Carson. “You might have noticed that none of us are all that happy with you,” he said in a low, intimidating tone. “I'd watch yourself from now on.”

“That a threat?” Carson challenged.

“It’s an observation,” Morgan replied coolly, tone still intimidating. He walked into the room.

Dave shook his head. “Well,” he said, injecting an extra dash of smug superiority into the word, “that was pretty stupid of you, wasn’t it?” He smiled condescendingly. “You know, Morgan might hit you. Prentiss and J.J. might shoot you. Reid might find something terrible to do to you with numbers. Me, though?” He smiled more dangerously. “Oh, I’ll _ruin_ you. In fact, it’ll be _easy_. I doubt I’ll even break a sweat.” He smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Maybe you should keep that in mind next time you’re about to insult someone. You just never know what kind of utter _bastard_ might love them.”

Still smirking, he followed the rest of the team into the room.

*

“Daddy, are you and Uncle Dave gonna get married?” Jack asked suddenly, looking up from the picture he was drawing. He seemed to be finished with it, because then he carefully started putting his crayons back in the box.

Dave watched Aaron blink, briefly floundering for an answer. “I don’t know, buddy. Why?”

Jack shrugged. “You like each other and he’s here lots and I like him,” he said simply. “Plus you kiss sometimes, which is weird but it’s what grownups do, so it’s okay I _guess_.”

Dave stifled a laugh at Aaron’s expression.

“Plus it’s okay if I have two daddies. I asked Mrs. Chandler at school and she said so. And my best friend Melanie has two _mommies_ and they’re really nice, I met them once. So you could get married if you want. Here’s a picture!” He lifted up the piece of paper he’d been drawing on. There were three stick figures—two taller ones, holding hands, and one smaller one. One of the taller stick men had a beard. “See, that’s you and Uncle Dave,” Jack said, pointing, “and that’s me.”

“It’s a very nice picture, Jack. Thank you,” Aaron said.

“It’s for both of you,” he declared, standing up. “I’m gonna go play with cars now.” He headed off to his room.

Dave raised an eyebrow at Aaron, who groaned. “I was wondering when he’d hit the mortifying questions stage.”

“At least now we know we have his blessing,” Dave said, smirking. “And Mrs. Chandler’s too. That’s important.”

“You enjoyed that far too much.”

“No, I think I enjoyed that the exact right amount.”

“It’s not bad enough that the team keeps asking if we’ve set a date, now my son has to get in on the act too?”

“He’s a fast learner. Takes after his father. And his Uncle Dave.” Dave grinned unrepentantly.

Aaron rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “What should I tell him?”

“You should tell him that maybe, before marriage, you two should at least move in first. Just a thought.”

“I—” Aaron started, then stopped, obviously taken by surprise. He met his eyes. “Was that an invitation?”

“Yes.” He shrugged, trying to exude the essence of casual. “If you want it to be.”

“Yeah,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I do.” He considered that response, then gave him an accusing look. “You did that on purpose.”

Dave couldn’t help but laugh at him. Aaron responded by very maturely chucking a pillow at his head.

*

Aaron squinted, tilting his head just so. “I have no idea what I’m looking for,” he said at last, turning to Dave.

“You think I do?” Dave asked, throwing down the sample curtains in his hand. “Last time I just hired a decorator.”

“Why don’t you do that this time?”

“You know, that’s a good question,” Dave replied. “I think I will.”

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” asked a salesperson just then, walking up to them.

“No thanks,” Dave said. “We’re beyond help. I’m going to hire a professional.”

She smiled, uncertain. “Are you sure?”

“Believe me,” Aaron said, dryly, “we’re sure.”

*

“Did you get called to the principal’s office too?” Dave asked him when they met in the hallway.

Aaron nodded grimly. “I’ve been expecting it.”

“Me too. I’m actually surprised it took this long.”

They headed for Strauss’s office together. “She’ll see you right away,” said her secretary, and they headed inside, shutting the door behind them.

“Should I bother to ask about the meaning of this?” Strauss asked, indicating the folder splayed open on her desk.

“It’s a change of address form, Erin,” Dave replied, tone dry. “Its use indicates, well, a change of address.”

“David,” Strauss said, giving him a look. She glanced at Aaron. “It’s your form, Agent Hotchner. And it’s David’s address.”

“That is correct.”

She sighed, looking from one to the other, suddenly sounding tired. “There are rules,” she said, after a moment. “David’s the reason for them.” There, she sounded almost wry.

“I do like to leave behind a certain reputation,” Dave replied, smirking just slightly.

Aaron resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Some rules can be bent. Some have been bent before.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Strauss replied, shaking her head and sitting down behind her desk. “And I suppose that as long as nothing significant changes, there won’t be any problem.” With that, she closed the file, turning to another.

Dave and Aaron exchanged, for them, a surprised look. “Erin?” Dave asked.

“Is there a reason you’re both still in my office?” she asked him, not looking back up.

A grin snuck its way onto Dave’s face. “No, there isn’t.” They left, turning to each other once they were safely out of her secretary’s earshot. “Who knew?” Dave asked, amused.

Aaron allowed himself a small smile.

*

“Uh-oh,” Morgan said.

“What’s wrong?” Prentiss asked, looking up.

“Hotch and Rossi are still in their separate offices.”

“Doesn’t Rossi usually get Hotch by now?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Think they had a fight?”

“Who had a fight?” Reid asked, walking up.

“Possibly Hotch and Rossi,” Prentiss said.

“Is that why they’re still in their respective offices?” he asked. “I was wondering about the anomaly.”

“Let’s find out,” Morgan said, standing. He headed up to Rossi’s office, followed by Prentiss and Reid, and knocked on the door.

“Yeah?” Rossi called, and Morgan pushed the door in.

“What’d you do?” he asked.

Rossi blinked. “What’d I do?”

“We’re operating under the assumption that you and Hotch had a fight,” Reid informed him.

“…and you think _I_ did something?”

“It’s just odds, man. You’ve been divorced three times as much.”

Rossi rolled his eyes. “In what scenario did you think I was actually going to talk about this with you?”

“So you _did_ have a fight,” Prentiss said. “Confirms our theory.”

Rossi groaned, throwing down his pen. “Get out, all of you.”

“Not until you tell us what you did,” Morgan said.

“Nothing,” he replied. “I did nothing. I went to lunch.”

“With whom?” Reid asked curiously.

“An ex-girlfriend,” he said, after a moment. Obviously he decided he _was_ going to talk about it. “She just moved to the city. I was helping her out.”

“Oh, man, Rossi,” Morgan said. “You at least tell Hotch about it?”

“It didn’t even occur to me that I needed to. It was nothing,” he said.

“So how’d he find out?” Prentiss asked.

“She stopped by the house,” he admitted. “Wanted to thank me by taking me to dinner.”

“We talking dinner or _dinner_?” Morgan eyed him.

Rossi paused. “The second one.”

“Even though she knew you were seeing someone?” Prentiss asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She didn’t,” Rossi said. “How would she know?”

“Rossi, Rossi, Rossi,” Morgan said, shaking his head. “You had lunch with an ex, didn’t mention it to Hotch, and during the lunch, didn’t even mention you’re with someone? And Hotch finds all this out when a sexy woman shows up at your door with some obvious intentions? Man.”

“Suddenly the three divorces seem clear,” Prentiss muttered.

“Jealousy does become a problem with a third of couples,” added Reid.

“It’s not like that. We don’t get jealous, at least not seriously.”

“You’re telling us it wouldn’t bother you if you found out Hotch had gone to lunch with an ex, didn’t tell you about it, and then only found out when the ex showed up because he obviously didn’t mention being with anybody?”

“Why would it? I know nothing’s going to happen.”

“That doesn’t always mean you won’t get jealous, man,” Morgan said. “It’s not always rational like that.”

“He might also be feeling unacknowledged,” Reid suggested. “There’s not only the lack of communication but also the lack of relationship confirmation to a third party.”

“We live together,” Rossi protested. “How much more relationship confirmation is necessary?”

“You have to say it out loud _sometimes_ , Rossi,” Morgan said. “I know you and Hotch have that whole let-it-remain-unspoken, we-just-know-and-it-just-is, knowing-looks-are-enough sort of vibe going on, and it works for you guys—which is good, ‘cause you both kinda suck at talking about stuff—but every once in awhile, what’s the harm in actually _saying_ something?” Rossi looked thoughtful and Morgan smirked, glancing at Reid and Prentiss. “Let’s get out of here. I think he’s figuring it out now.”

Rossi rolled his eyes, which Morgan chose to ignore as they all left his office. As they walked back down to the bullpen so Prentiss could get her things, they noticed Rossi head into Hotch’s office.

“Mom and Dad’ll be okay,” he said, grinning. Reid and Prentiss gave him amused looks in return.

*

Aaron sighed as he hung up the phone. “I have to go back in,” he said.

“All of us?”

“No, it’s an administrative thing,” he replied. “I should call Jessica—”

“Why?”

“To watch Jack.”

Dave shrugged. “If I don’t have to go, I can watch him.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. We’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Dave.” They headed to Jack’s room, and Dave watched as Aaron told him he had to go back into work for a little bit.

“That’s okay, Daddy,” said Jack. “Is Uncle Dave gonna stay with me?”

“He is,” Aaron confirmed. “Be good for him.”

“I will,” Jack promised. Aaron smiled and dropped a kiss on his forehead, then headed out of his room.

“I shouldn’t be longer than two hours,” he told him.

“See you then,” Dave replied, kissing him goodbye.

Aaron smiled again and headed down the hall, and Dave turned toward Jack, pausing in the doorway to his room. “So what do you want to do while your dad is gone, Jack?”

Jack seemed to consider this very carefully. “Let’s watch a movie! With popcorn!” he declared at last.

Dave grinned. “A move sounds perfect. You pick, I’ll make the popcorn.”

“Okay!” Jack stood and hurried out of his room, into the den. All their DVDs were in there, lining several shelves, encompassing a joint collection now.

Dave headed into the kitchen to get out the bag of popcorn and a pot. He turned the stove on, setting the pot over the burner, and added some oil.

“I picked Toy Story 3,” Jack said, walking into the kitchen. His brow furrowed when he saw Dave in front of the stove. “What are you doing?”

“Making popcorn,” he said.

“You make popcorn on the _stove_?” he asked, eyes wide. “Me and Daddy usually make it in the microwave.”

“This way is better, trust me,” he told him sagely. He picked up a kernel and tossed it into the pot, smiling when it immediately popped. “Pot’s ready.” He coated the bottom of the pot with kernels and put the lid on it. “Should be just a few minutes now.”

“Can I see?” Jack asked, and Dave nodded, retrieving a folding step stool from the pantry.

“Keep your hands back,” he said.

Jack nodded, stepping onto the stool. He watched in rapt fascination as the kernels popped in the pot. “This is cool!”

Dave grinned.

After their popcorn was done, Dave got out the seasonings, both the salt and the white cheddar, which Jack declared that he loved. They headed back to the den, where they settled in to watch the movie. By the time Dave heard the front door open, it was almost over.

“What are you watching?” Aaron asked, appearing in the doorway. He slipped onto the couch on Jack’s other side, stretching an arm along the back of the couch. His hand brushed Dave’s shoulder.

“Toy Story 3,” Jack said in a whisper. “Shhh, this is the good part!”

Aaron grinned at him. Dave could only grin back, leaning in and kissing him quickly.

“Grownups,” Jack said exasperatedly, glancing up at them.

Dave stifled a laugh, leaning into Aaron’s touch. Aaron smiled back at him, bright and unreserved.

In David Rossi’s not-so-humble opinion, it was one hell of a sight.


End file.
